


We’re Not Alone Now

by sinisterkid92



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pregnancy, garcy, traveling to sao paulo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 09:46:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15116816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinisterkid92/pseuds/sinisterkid92
Summary: ."How it was possible in all this undoing that something, someone, completely new could be done? Created. Deep inside her. She wanted to warn it, whatever it was that had taken root inside of her, that she was unsafe territory. Five years in this battle and Emma and Rittenhouse are still out there manipulating time. Jess was dangling baby Finn over Wyatt’s head whenever she got the opportunity. He wasn’t a baby anymore, though. He looked just like Wyatt and that made her stomach clench. She was a target though, no place for a child, no."





	We’re Not Alone Now

**Author's Note:**

> I am still sad about the news we got last week and not quite sure how I feel about it. The best thing for sad is to do something creative, and I got the first line of this stuck in my head during my commute from work yesterday and the story kind of grew from there. 
> 
> Hope you like it. It's a bit different from other works I have posted on here.

How do you explain the chaos that happens inside you at the flicker of a heartbeat? Inside, deep between layers of tissue and blood you create and destroy without cessation and one day that very same process will be the end of you. If you live long enough. She did not have the luxury of stressing over the small sunfeather wrinkles or fear the impending doom of aging. Before this, before Mason and before the journal, in the innocence of her prison of ignorance, she had stocked her bathroom cabinet with wrinkle creams, under-eye patches, and bottles upon bottles that promised to keep your skin from aging. 

Sometimes she missed those bottles. Not because of a sudden strike of vanity or a need to pamper herself. It was the before that she missed. The bottles were a stand-in, an irrational feeling that if she had the baby blue, or the sunset orange, or the dark green bottles in her hand she would be back there. Back in the mundane. Back safe. Back with her sister. 

She touched the soft flesh of her belly, unmarred by scars for now. The hardness of the ab muscles just underneath a small layer of fat. They used to call her scrawny when she was a child, with long thin limbs and a body that didn’t give a hint of womanness until she was close to graduating high school. There wasn’t much to desire in the nerdy kid that spent more time in the library than with her peers. She reminded herself that that was the reason why she didn’t have those friends who would wonder about her missing. “Was she at Mason Industries when it exploded?” No, there was no one to ask that question.

For a while there was college. Freedom smelled like salt water drying on sunkissed skin, like the electric static of CRT computers, like sweet smoke. It tasted like kisses. She could still feel the static against her fingertips if she closed her eyes and thought of the hidden away corners of the library. Simon was the first, he made love like a boy and it was sweet but rushed and it didn’t last long between the two of them before the newness got boring. Where were those people now? In her mind they were hazy pictures with missing parts flickering to the front of her head. After the accident she left them behind, they became one with the feeling of no control, one with her mother’s whispering reprimandation. “If it weren’t for them you’d have been at the library studying for your midterm as you should.”

Soft, she prodded her belly again. Flat. Inside her everything was in chaos. She’d seen a video of it once, a youtube suggested video, she’d watched the formation of new life from sperm and egg to a fully fledged human being ready to be born in under a minute. There was that stage where they looked more like a taco than anything resembling the shape of a person and she couldn’t quite grasp her head around how that was possible. In college there were protesters on campus sometimes, bearing bloody and grotesque pictures but they never looked like taco shells.

How it was possible in all this undoing that something, someone, completely new could be done? Created. Deep inside her. She wanted to warn it, whatever it was that had taken root inside of her, that she was unsafe territory. Five years in this battle and Emma and Rittenhouse are still out there manipulating time. Jess was dangling baby Finn over Wyatt’s head whenever she got the opportunity. He wasn’t a baby anymore, though. He looked just like Wyatt and that made her stomach clench. She was a target though, no place for a child, no.

No one knew. She kept it tight against her, the knowledge of what her body was creating in hidden corners of her body. There were words to describe it, to open her mouth and tell someone, him, anyone that she was harbouring a secret and it was big enough despite its littleness to change everything. 

He was still asleep and for a moment she considered her decision. Without him knowing she’d written the journal, found a quiet corner where no one passed by. Filled it with anything he would need to know to start him down the path, get him to her again, give him what he needed to make better choices yet still… it was a balance, no way of knowing where it would take him and them. It was a burden and at the same time a key to his prison that she was giving him. A double edged sword she trusted him to weild. 

If she went back would she change the moment that created whoever was growing in her? Would it change her, or would she remain as she were like inanimate pieces going with them into the past? Would she remain in this state while he would have no memory of it? How much could she give without giving too much? There were so many things she’d been robbed of the past years, she wasn’t prepared to sacrifice this. 

Yet, she couldn’t go through with this without knowing she’d done everything she could to save it. She couldn’t put another human being, innocent and without choice, into this mess of a life. She remembered the sinking car. The cold window as she pressed her palm against it. The water brushing up over her ankles and knees. 

She’d planned on going back with more. To give him the ultimate weapon but now there was this. She wasn’t sure yet if this was what she wanted to do. The right thing to do was probably to tell him. Open her mouth and… speak the words. If she did then she wouldn’t go and she needed to. Needed to go back and start over with more, he needed to know more than he did the first time around (was it the first time, was she stuck in a loop and was this always the thing that made her so cryptic?). 

It wasn’t just her now. 

Even if words could express the state she was in, give it a title and an expectation of what would come months from now, it could not relay just how chaotic it was. It was exhausting growing new cells, someone else’s cell. She tested the word in her head – a baby. 

No. She wouldn’t tell him, not until she came back. This was bigger than them, bigger than their baby – she couldn’t imagine it being bigger than the fingernail of her thumb, but even talking symbolic size nothing was of more importance than ending Rittenhouse. Knowing what she knew now, she had no qualms about sending Flynn on the mission he started on. It all had a purpose. Did that make her a bad person, she asked herself? Weren’t mothers, even those reluctant and without a choice in the early weeks when it was just an abstract idea of tomorrow, weren’t all mothers supposed to but their children first? Above all else?

It wasn’t like she had any role model to look up to. Her mother’s last words were etched into her mind like a spiral she was trapped in. Denise was a good mother, she knew that, but she’d never seen Denise with her children, she was always professional. That meant she had to make it up as she went. 

She reached out to run her hand over his stubbled cheeks. For a moment she hoped that would wake him up, that he would open his eyes and ask her what it was all about. He’d see it on her face, she knew he was suspecting something was up. The pieces hadn’t fallen into place just yet. It was only a matter of time and if he woke up now he would see it on her and he would stop her. Why didn’t he wake up and stop her?

There was always that risk, that she would undo it all. Their time together, the progress they’d made. If she went back and changed too much, what would she return to? The stakes were high, higher than ever before. 

There, in that moment as she crouched next to him feeling the stubble against the pads of her fingertips she let herself want, just for a moment. Want this baby with him, want a family with him. It was such a fragile thing, to want and to have. To have and to know it can destroy everything. Their happiness could make them scared, it could make them hold back, be timid and cautious. It could end them. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel her heart burst from wanting in her chest. Burn and burst and combust and grow. It was thrilling, wonderful at the same time as it scared her shitless.

What did it mean?

He did not wake up.

He did not stop her.

Jiya waited for her in the hangar, eyeing her wearily like a woman who knew what was up. Her breasts were swollen. They ached. It was obvious to those who knew what to look for. Maybe Flynn had already figured it out. 

They’d talked about this, it was their mission and on them to do. Jiya reached over to squeeze her hand as the other hand flicked switches and punched buttons with practiced ease. 

How do you open your mouth and speak about the chaos that happens inside when you have a secret that you cannot wrap your head around? Where do you begin to stumble over words, in what end does the story begin? Her heart flickered in her chest. It was impossible to explain what was going on inside her, she did not understand it herself. 

Hold on baby, she thought as she was slung back in time. It’s time to meet your father.


End file.
